One of Those Nights
by PutMoneyInThyPurse
Summary: Kelly has nightmares of shooting at Scotty in the aftermath of Karolyi's brainwashing. In her incredible "Wheat from Chaff", La Dorinda wrote that "some nights, those dream bullets would find their mark." This is one of those nights. Desperately needy and borderline OOC, I think.


AN: In her incredible "Wheat from Chaff", La Dorinda, the Empress of I Spy fan fiction, wrote that Kelly would have recurring nightmares of shooting at Scotty in the aftermath of Karolyi's brainwashing, and that "some nights, those dream bullets would find their mark." This is my first attempt at showing one of those nights. I had hoped it would be - well, better, more worthy of the source material. Desperate and needy and codependent _like whoa, _and borderline OoC, I think.

* * *

The sun beats down mercilessly. His partner stands on the ledge, at gunpoint, about to die, but not begging for mercy. Never.

Scotty stands proud and tall as the bullets tear through his chest. He jerks, holes appearing, chunks of blood and flesh exploding out into space, but he doesn't fall until the gun is empty, until every bullet has gouged and ripped itself in, destroyed his chest.

He'd dead before he hits the ground, and Kelly watches the body fall. He feels no shock, no alarm, just a sorrow so deep that he knows it will finish him. He just wishes he could have died before this moment. He should have destroyed himself, a hundred times over, rather than let anything touch a hair on Scotty's head. He needs to hand himself over to someone who'll kill him slowly, make him suffer, and even then all the suffering in the world won't bring back the best man he's ever known. Why didn't he die instead? Why did he live to see this? Why didn't he turn the gun on himself? Why…

Strong arms slip around him, stroking his back and shoulders. He struggles. He doesn't deserve comfort, he deserves to die slowly and painfully, he deserves…

"…ssh, Hoby," whispers the beloved voice. He can't be—he's dead…

Kelly pushes against the encircling arms, not understanding anymore. "No…"

"Open your eyes." The voice rises into a stern shout. "Open your eyes!" He's shaken roughly, and he obeys.

It's a shock to see a dark room, Scotty lying across from him in the king-size bed, still shaking him. "Snap out of it. Wake UP!" His eyes meet the wide brown ones – Scotty's tone is angry, but his face betrays him. "You're dreaming!" he shouts. "It's just a dream."

Kelly's eyes are open now, and Scotty's stopped yelling, but he can't stop looking at Scotty's face, wondering why he's still alive when he nearly killed him. Wondering why he's even indulging himself by asking such a question; you live until you die, and that's all. No logic about it. No _fair_ about it. But my God, if he'd killed Scotty…

"Kel—"

Kelly turns away.

_If this ever happens again, _he wants to say to Scotty, _I want you to shoot me._ But he knows Scotty'll just say, _Not gonna do that, Jack,_ and they'll be back where they started.

Only one foolproof way to make sure it won't happen again _– if you want the job done right, do it yourself – _but… The coward's way out, they call it. Kelly's not… Hell, maybe he _is_ a coward. Couldn't stand the fear of Scotty betraying him, so he…

"Hey, what's goin' on in that head of yours? I can hear you thinking all the way over here."

"Thanks for waking me," Kelly says formally. "Go back to sleep."

The slap of a palm hitting a forehead echoes in the silent room.

After a long silence, Scotty says, "They wanted me to… _terminate_ you."

"You shoulda," Kelly growls without missing a beat.

This time, the silence stretches so long that Kelly turns to face Scotty, find out what's going on. When he does, he's stunned at the hurt he sees in the wide brown eyes.

"Is _that_ what you think?" Scotty whispers.

Oh, damn. Sometimes he forgets that Scotty's such an angel, he really cares for Kelly, thinks he's worth something. Forgets that he has a duty to him, too. But this is so important, he tries to find a way to say it… "If you have a choice," he rasps, "if it happens again…"

"I will do exactly the same thing as last time."

Kelly feels his eyes flash, knows Scotty sees it. "Listen here, Jack—"

"No, you listen!" Scotty cuts him off. "You think you're the only one who's got a right to – to throw himself in the line of fire? That you're the only one who's expendable?"

"You're sure as hell not expendable—"

"Neither are you, Jack!" Scotty's rage is blistering. "That is what you do not get, you see, what you have never gotten so far as I know. Can you not get it through your thick skull that I would maybe, just _maybe,_ rather have had you _shoot_ me than see you _terminated?_ Rather _not_ live than know that you're _gone?"_

Kelly stares.

"Kel," Scotty says very, very softly, "you're my partner. The only cat who wears the same size shirts as I do."

It's too much, and his breath hitches in a laugh, squeezing his eyes shut against the burn. He barely hears his partner's _c'mere _before he's in Scotty's arms, choking out apologies and hearing Scotty murmuring to him, little whispered confessions of affection. "Don't worry," Kelly finds himself reassuring Scotty. "I'm all right. It's all right."

And somewhere between dark and dawn, lying there holding Scotty like his partner needs so desperately to be held, he understands. Understands their unasked-for bond, and the responsibilities that come with it. Understands the strength that Scotty gives him, and the strength he never realized he gave him in return. Realizes, understands to his core, that neither of them is expendable. Not even him. He owes Scotty that much. And in return, if it hurts to live, Scotty will help ease the pain, just as he's soothing him now.

Huh. In a way, it's kinda… liberating not to be free to jump off a cliff anymore. Which isn't logical, but hey, when has life ever been logical?


End file.
